


A Sorta Fairytale

by Claudia_flies



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 08:51:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3243638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claudia_flies/pseuds/Claudia_flies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snippets in the courtship of the Inquisitor and the Commander. </p><p>Slight divergence from in-game timeline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Flower of Ostwick

**Author's Note:**

> All the lyrics by Tori Amos.

_find a little in you find a little_   
_in me we may be_   
_on this road but_   
_we're just_   
_impostors_   
_in this country you know_

 

Commander Cullen had never spent much time with apostates, with the exception of retrieval missions, more like _search and destroy_ his mind helpfully supplied. Templars were encouraged to avoid spending leisure time in the company of mages, let alone apostates. First there had been Solas, who was courteous but regarded Templars as more of oddities rather than anything to be wary of.  While Cullen considered Solas’ travels in the fade borderline dangerous, he thought the other man quite good company. He was calm and did not like discussing personal matters, which Cullen appreciated.

Then there was Trevelyan, she was not a textbook apostate, having been trained at the Ostwick Circle until her early twenties, or so Leliana reported. The Spymaster had given him a briefing on the mage when she had accepted to officially join the Inquisition, and Cullen was even more perplexed by her than he was of Solas. Trevelyan had studied and lived at the Circle but suddenly, aged 23, had left. She had not so much escaped as just walked out the door and never returned. She had been one of the most trusted young mages at the Circle and had been given freedoms others weren’t granted. One day, out on her daily walk she had not returned. The Templars and elders had assumed that she had been slain by a stray wolf or a bear, until she appeared as the household mage of Duke Castilian of Kaiten.

Castilian had a sizable private army and several Chevaliers who had pledged him loyalty, after growing tired of the constant warfare in Orlais. The Templar order relied on him too much for recruits and military aid in the Free Marches, so they decided to not push for Trevelyan to return to the Circle. Her family had been appalled and had cut ties with her, with the exception of her eldest brother who she still wrote to on occasion.

As much as Leliana had gathered, Trevelyan had spent a rather unremarkable six years with the Castilian’s. She had gained excellent combat skills, but otherwise had dedicated her time to researching magical plants and doing gardening. She had even written a book on bog based magical vegetation and it’s uses. Leliana had painted a picture of a very ordinary woman, which Cullen had trouble reconciling with fierce mage who now wielded the mark in the Inquisition’s name. She had a wildness about her that Cullen never associated with nobility, and a bad temper that he had seen flare on a few occasions around the war table.

All of this was running through his mind as he watched Trevelyan approaching the training fields. She came by relatively often to talk to him about the Inquisition and had even asked him about life as a Templar. Cullen felt his ears reddening; some of her questions had been _very specific_. Instead of walking over to Cullen she took a right turn and went to a group of young recruits. A young man whose name Cullen could not remember separated from the group. Him and Trevelyan walked down the slopes where the younger men were camped and disappeared into a tent.

Cullen kept an eye on the tent and waited. Two minutes passed, then five. There could be no proper reason for her to keep a recruit away from training, at least that is what Cullen told himself as he made his way down the slope towards the tent.

Cullen could hear their muffled voices through the fabric wall as he approached. He sensed no magic, but you could never be sure with mages. Without lyrium his senses were not as keen as before. With a swift motion he pulled the flap of the tent aside. Trevelyan’s face shot up and she moved in front of him, easily blocking his view into the tent with her body.

“Commander. This is a private conversation.”

Cullen was used to mages at least treating him with caution, but Trevelyan only leaned closer to him. Her magic suddenly pulsed around them with a hint of danger in the close quarters of the tent. The way she reacted to Templars was unlike any Circle mage he had met, like she was certain that she would be on the winning side of any combat. She was almost giving him a warning, an escape opportunity before she lashed out.

Cullen did not move, he could feel the remains of the lyrium, could feel his own power gathering. Trevelyan’s magic was now crackling on her fingertips and she smiled baring her teeth.

“Umm… Lady Herald… I don’t mind him seeing them…”

Trevelyan, lifted her left hand to silence the boy. But the spell that had existed between them was broken.

“Fine.”

She moved to the side letting Cullen see into the tent. His eyes had adjusted to the low light, and as he surveyed the space he saw them. Laid out on the camp bed were several pressed plants, and a small seed box.

“As you can see Commander, I was corrupting your troops in the way of plant gathering. 

Trevelyan’s voice was terse, and the recruit was trying to smile at Cullen and was failing miserably.

It turned out that the young recruit, Oswald, was a keen plant collector and him and Trevelyan had discovered their shared passion for flora when he was ordered to help catalogue the Inquisition’s weapons store. Oswald had agreed to keep an eye out for seeds and plants that might of medicinal use while out on patrol. He had also collected cuttings to show Trevelyan.

Cullen didn’t know what to say, he felt that he ought to apologise. Explain himself, but that might require him to explore his feeling towards Trevelyan more than he was ready to.  Before he had time to say anything Trevelyan pushed past him. With practiced ease she filed the cuttings back into the book and closed the seed box.

Pointedly she turned her back to Cullen and addressed the younger man: 

“Oswald, thank you so much for your help. Please keep going with your collections.”

She shot Cullen a venomous glance.

“… As long as the Commander _allows_ it.”

Trevelyan swept out of the tent, elbowing Cullen aside with surprising strength. He was left in the tent with the recruit who looked at him with apprehension and tiny bit of genuine fear. Cullen muttered an apology to the recruit and followed Trevelyan out of the tent and up the hill. He watched her retreating back and angry strides with mixed emotions. She was almost out of the training grounds when she suddenly turned back to him and said.

“You know, Commander, if you want my attention you only need to ask.”

Cullen froze, trying to meet the challenge in her gaze with one of his own, and failing.

 

\---------------

  

Evelyn was surprised when the Commander came to seek her out at the makeshift greenhouse at the back of the chantry, and even more so when he spoke.

“I wanted to apologise the way I treated you earlier. I let my prejudices against mages colour my judgment, and that was unworthy of me.”

She nods slowly, studying the man’s face, trying to pick out any hints of insincerity. He is standing in front of her stiff and formal, which makes him look more like a Templar rather than a mere soldier. Disconcerted by the though, Evelyn waves her hand in dismissal. 

“It’s not like I was being my regular polite self. So, no need for apologies Commander.”

Stubbornly he shakes his head.

“I jumped to conclusions and I should not have.”

Evelyn shrugs and waves him away again, but the Commander clearly isn’t ready to end their conversation yet.

“I would like to get to know you better as well. We were never encouraged to speak with mages and as we will be working together…”

He doesn’t finish the though and the silence hangs between them uncomfortably for a while. Evelyn had been interrogating her new companions as much as she was able. She can understand why the Commander would like to know more about her. And he is right, they will be working together and she really should try and make effort with letting the other members of the Inquisition get to know her.

“All right, ask away. I’m sure that Leliana has already told you much of my life, but if there is anything that you would like to know, I will do my best to answer.”

He nods and is silent for a while, his eyes travel over the plants and herbs that have been gathered in the room. For a moment Evelyn thinks that he is actually not going to ask her anything.

“What was life like at the Ostwick Circle?”

The question takes her off guard, but she decides to try and be as honest with him as she can. Templars sometimes, in her experience, have some very odd thoughts about mages.

“Well, it’s hard to compare to anything as I was taken to the Circle when I was six. I was the youngest at the Ostwick Circle quite some time and by quite a few years. “

“You were very young…”

Evelyn pushes her fingernails into her palm, a nervous habit she had never been able to break.

“Yes, it was hard at first. I guess for mages it’s hard because you don’t want to leave home, but you are forced to. When the Templars came to take me, I clung to my mother and begged her to let me stay, but she wouldn’t even look at me. She just forced my hands to let go of her and handed me over to one of the Templars…”

Evelyn can feel the tears trying to break free, and fights hard to keep them down, but the look on the Commander’s face makes it harder.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t meant to…”

He reaches out for her, his palm coming to rest on her shoulder. His hands are big and her shoulder fits snugly inside his palm. It radiates heat and makes Evelyn want to curl to him and for once cry against someone’s shoulder. Which would be a silly thing to do with a _Templar_. Instead she shoves her sorrow back into the deep recesses of her mind where it lives.

“No, Commander, it’s all right. I just haven’t thought of this in a long time. My time in the Circle really wasn’t bad. When I joined an older mage called Vera took me under her wing. She was almost like a proto-mother for me for a few years, until more kids my age joined the Circle.  We formed a gang and made the older mages’ life a bit of a hell for a while.”

Evelyn can feel her face pulling into a smile, despite her mood. The memory of Vera can always do that.

“I think that even the Templars were quite lax with us, because there hadn’t been children at the Circle for a while and it seemed to change the atmosphere. I know that many Circle mages have terrible time, but I really can’t say that my experience was like that.”

“Then why did you leave?”

“Did Leliana tell you that I left?”

“Well… yes.”

“Ah… The official story is that I was sent to the Castilian’s by the Circle. It seems that our spymaster is indeed worthy of that title.”

It’s a strange thought to Evelyn that the other woman had her agents scouring over Thedas after information about her life. She tries to think back to her time at the Circle and put her feelings into words.

“I left partly out of boredom, partly out of a desire for adventure. Even after we got older the rules at the Circle weren’t that strict and in all honesty I hadn’t realised that it would cause that much of a commotion…”

“You thought that leaving he Circle without telling anyone would not be a problem?”

Evelyn shrugs.

“I was fairly naïve, and nobility. I just wanted to experience more of the world, I didn’t think that I would not be able to go back. Let alone that I would be branded an apostate!”

He chuckles at that, and Evelyn feels strangely proud for having been the reason for it. Suddenly as before he changes topics.

“What was life like with the Castilian’s?”

Evelyn is silent for a moment, considering how she can condense the years that truly formed her into the woman she is today, the people she had met, had loved and hated, into a sensible answer.

“It was interesting. Both good and bad in places. It was there that I really learned how much fear people have towards magic and mages. How we are sometime seen as not people at all. I was used to being surrounded by people like me and suddenly I was the only mage around. I was free, but at the same time I was watched much more than I had been at the Circle.”

“Was it what you were expecting?”

“You mean freedom? Yes and no. I went a bit crazy in the first year, got a few tattoos, experimented with rift  magic and drugs. You know, the usual. I did become a more of an apostate during my time with the Castilian’s. I learned more combat magic and took part in a few skirmishes.”

“You have tattoos?”

“Well, not where you can see them… If you get me drunk enough, I might even show you.”

She winks at him and is rewarded by an intense blush that spreads up his neck and over his ears. Evelyn is really not sure what has come over her, she was never the one to flirt with the Templars or hang around the training ground. There was always a few mages that liked to flirt with the danger, see how far they could push things. But there is something about the Commander that overrides her common sense.

On a whim Evelyn turns to the table and pulls out a flower she was cataloguing. It has a small white flower, a barely more than a weed. She moves to stand in front of the Commander. So close that she can smell the leather and armor polish, she hooks her fingers under a leather strap and pushes the stem through. Cullen searches her eyes; Evelyn is not sure for what.

“For luck.”

He touches the flower gently and smiles.  Evelyn tries to remind herself why she never flirted with Templars. 


	2. Never Have I Ever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All lyrics by Tori Amos.

_and i was talking to you_   
_and i knew then it would be_  
 _a life long thing_  
 _but i didn't know that we_  
 _we could break a silver lining_

  

The drink had been flowing for a while and the fire was nearly burned down. Josie was looking decidedly drowsy, learning against her palm and Cole, now more human, had given up on his fight against sleep and was half lying on the long bench by the wall.

Bull threw back another shot of Butterbile, coughed and declared:

“Right! Never have I ever been to an orgy!”

He let out of a bark of a laugh, winked at Dorian, and with great deal of showmanship placed his mug back on the table. The mage gave him a dirty look and an exasperated sigh, but left his glass decided untouched on the table.

One by one Evelyn watched her companions take a drink, with Sera asking if “seeing one through a window counted” which was met with a negative chorus and she was forced to empty her glass. And finally it was her turn, Evelyn watched the glass filled to the brim in front of her and with an impish smile, pushed it away from her.

“Inquisitor! Well shit! I demand details.”

Bull banged is mug against the table, showering both Cullen and Cassandra in droplets of Butterbile, who were both giving her an unbelieving look. Evelyn could swear that the commander looked rather green around the gills; she wasn’t sure if it was the drink or the thought of an orgy. She smiled and shook her head.

“I think that the inquisitor is merely trying to avoid drinking a glass full of Butterbile.”

Varric smirked behind the ginormous goblet that nearly eclipsed his whole face.

There was a chorus of agreement from her companions. It was Sera who started the chanting.

“Drink, drink, drink!”

“Or a story!”

Varric managed to insert in between the shouts.

“Fine, fine, all of you!”

Evelyn conceded in defeat and took a sip of the Butterbile, _oh, god it was hideous,_ to steady her nerves.

“It all started innocently enough. Most of the Templar garrison had been called away from the Ostwick Circle to put down an apostate stronghold or some such near the coast. With the lack of proper Templar support on the grounds they restricted all the mages to our respective wings. As we were mostly divided by our levels it meant that most of the younger mages we cooped up together for a few days and as you can imagine we were getting quite bored by the second evening. So, then someone brought out _Ulthrect’s Guide to Magical Wanking_ …”

“The what!?”

Cassandra was grasping her cup and leaning over the table towards Evelyn. She looked both horrified and fascinated in equal measure.

“ _Ulthrect’s Guide to Magical Wanking_ ”

Evelyn repeated.

“Most circles will have a copy or two hidden away in the library, or so I’ve heard. I’m sure our Commander has come across this particular volume during his Templar days.”

Evelyn could see the blush rise along Cullen’s neck and up to his ears as all the eyes in the table turned to look at him. Evelyn almost felt bad, but he was so cute when he was embarrassed.

“Um… yes, I may have seen copy… but ah… I can’t claim to know anything of its contents.”

“Really, commander, you were never curious?”

She winked at him.

“The copies of any forbidden books were destroyed on sight!”

Evelyn thinks that he is a bit too forceful with his denial, but lets it go.

“It’s a magical sex guide. Well mostly it contains spells that one can use while alone. It’s mostly low level stuff, nothing too adventurous or wild.”

She explained to her rapt audience. She could almost see the cogs whirring in Varric’s head, who had lowered his goblet to the table.

“And all the mages know about this book…?”

“Well as far as I know, it seems to be quite well known among other circle mages.”

Evelyn shrugged.

“We have to learn from somewhere.”

She heard the commander snort and sputter, and saw Bull whacking his back from the corner of her eye. She ignored his coughing and continued with her story:

“So, we were just going to test a few spells. At this point we may have already consumed quite a few barrels of Mrs. Folley’s Apple Surprise, this fermented apple wine that she brewed in the kitchens. Awful stuff, but we were limited in what we could get our hands on. One of the boys volunteered as the first ‘subject’…”

Evelyn couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her at the memory. Damn, she hadn’t thought of that period in her life in a long time and some of her memories of the Circle were actually quite fond.

“Oh, we’re finally getting to the good part!”

Bull announced and drowned another mugful. It’s not like he even needed to play Never Have I Ever to drink, Evelyn thought.

“So he laid on one of the big round tables that we had in the common rooms. It really did start as a sort of dare with the boys trying to torture each other and egg each other on, until Lila climbed on the table as well and demanded to get in on the action. After she took off her robe, things got… _competitive_.”

Evelyn let the word hang in the air; the table had fallen strangely silent with only Cole’s quiet snores breaking the tension.

“So, inquisitor, did you get in on the action?”

Of course it would be Dorian, who would demand the lurid details, Evelyn mused. She smirked and looked Cullen straight in the eye.

“I did. Let’s just say that I wasn’t expecting to ever be the Herald of Andraste back in those days and I acted accordingly. If memory serves me correctly I think I was the next one to demand some magical attention after Lila. Like I said, it had been a very boring few days.”

She had to give it to the Commander; he never did break their gaze.

“Ultimately, we all ended up naked, in a pile on and around that big table. I’m sure that even to this day the Templar commanders at Ostwick are wondering what happened that particular spring which made all of us so mellow and easy to handle!”

Bull threw his head back and laughed while banging his mug against the table so violently that Cole fell of the bench and woke up. He looked around perplexed and then his face slackened:

“Hot. Sweaty. It pulses and pushes inside like a wave. Hands grip the wood. Splinters but you don’t care. So much pleasure that you can’t see, can’t hear.”

Varric laughs and pats him on the back.

“I think that’s probably enough, kid.”

It’s breaks the tension and Evenlyn is finally able to look away from Cullen’s piercing gaze. She is not entirely sure if she has ruined her reputation with him for good or incited his interest. She knows some things of his complicated relationship with mages and she is not even sure if letting herself get involved with a Templar, _an ex-Templar_ , is a good idea. Maybe she agreed to tell this story just to put him off, to scare him away.

The evening ends with Dorian demanding “Someone must get me this book, at once!” as they leave the tavern. Evelyn is pretty sure that they have much better magical sex guides in Tevinter.

She takes the long way around back to the main keep, letting the chilly night air cool her flamed cheeks. She is not really sure if it’s the Butterbile or the memories. She rounds the corner of the tower in the parapet and nearly runs into the Commander’s broad chest. He grabs her by the arms to avoid collision and spins her around.

Cullen leans close to her and she can smell the mix of alcohol, smoke from the fire and weapon oil on him.

“ _Ulthrect’s Guide to Magical Wanking_ , really!?”

His indignant, and Evelyn is not sure if he is more angry over his wounded pride or did the thought of her hot and sweaty with a group of mages really get to him.

“Well, it’s that book and some decent cloaking spells that get most mages through their teenage years at the Circle.”

He laughs and leans closer to her. There is nowhere for her to go, her back is against the cold stone and his closeness sends a secret thrill though her. She wouldn’t mind showing Cullen a few select spells from that particular tome.

“Did it get you?”

“What do you think?”

She leans to him, her lips only inches from his, and Evelyn wills him to close the distance. Wills him to turn her around, pull down her trousers and take her right there, against the cold stonewall of the keep where anyone could walk by.

But the Commander does nothing of the sort, instead he pulls back and disappears into the night without a word. Evelyn is forced to return to her quarters alone and frustrated.


	3. A Touch of Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics by Tori Amos.

_the girl had come undone_   
_i tried to downplay it_   
_with a bet about us_   
_you said that-_   
_you'd take it_   
_as long as i could_

 

It’s not that Cullen visits the Inquisitor’s personal quarters that often, or ever, but this report is important. Scout Harding is about to ride out and the Inquisitor never signed off on the requisitions they needed. The hour is still very early, and the keep is quiet. Silently he makes his way through the rubble that still covers the hallway leading up the door and pushes it open.

He feels the hit of magic instantly, it pulls and tugs at him, makings him grit his teeth and wakes in him the unbidden desire for lyrium. There is still enough of it in his system to set his Templar abilities on edge, set his mind to a fight. Silently he proceeds up the stairs. Her room is still in relative darkness, the grey light of the early dawn providing some illumination. As he reaches the top of the stairs, Cullen wishes he hadn’t. He wishes that he had let Harding go, requisitions be damned.

Evelyn is still in bed, her eyes closed. She is lying on top of her crumpled covers, only in a thin nightshirt, its collar open to her navel. She is not asleep. Her lips are parted in a silent O, as if she is blowing out invisible smoke rings into the air. Her breasts are exposed with pert pink nipples and a fine trail of freckles over her flesh. It leaves Cullen to wonder how the sun ever reached there with the heavy armor she usually wears. The thumb and index finger of her hand are pressing and squeezing a nipple. With knees bent and open, her right hand hovers over her crotch. He can see the fine tendrils of magic spread out from her fingers and disappear inside her cunt.

It’s the kind of tableau that Cullen has sometimes imagined in his fever dreams at the dead of night when the withdrawal has been at its worst, and had hated himself for it in the morning. But this is not a dream that Cullen can will away from his mind’s eye in the light of day.

Evelyn moans out loud and her left hand moves to join her right, and the magic changes. Cullen can feel the pulses of it in the air and it sings to him, it pushes against his walls, tests him and makes the lyrium that is still, maybe forever, in his bones ache. He wants to silence her. He wants to join her.

Her back arches and her head is thrown back and Cullen doesn’t want to see this, doesn’t want to know what she really looks like, sounds like, in her climax. He twists around and rushes down the stairs. In his haste he forgets caution and stealth. His sword clangs against the bannisters. _Clank_ , _clank_ , _clank_.

“Hello! Is someone there?”

Her voice is hoarse, and Cullen freezes. His face is aflame, but he can pretend that he only arrived. That he has not stood there. _Watching her_.

“Inquisitor, it’s only me. Harding is leaving and she needs the requisitions. Are you decent?”

There is a long pause, and Cullen squeezes his eyes shut forcing his own arousal under control: this is not the time. There will be time later, in the privacy of his room, in the dead of night. A life lived in shared quarters has trained him well, and by the time her voice sounds out again he is ready to open his eyes and face her.

“Give me a moment, I’m still in my nightclothes.”

After a few torturous minutes she calls him up. She is wrapped in a hooded dressing gown, several sizes too big. Cullen is grateful how fully it hides her body from sight. Her face is still flushed and Cullen tries to not remember what she looked like caught up in passion. She grabs the papers from his unresisting hands and moves to sign them on her overflowing desk.

“I’m sorry to disturb you at this early hour… I did not want Harding to leave without…”

He stutters, as she raises her cool gaze to him.

“It’s perfectly all right, Commander. No harm done.”

_She knows._ The thought sends a shock of heat to the pit of his stomach. For a moment he thinks of pushing her against the desk and pulling the robe from her body; lifting her onto the desk, freeing his aching cock and taking her. She would be wet and ready, on the edge already. He wants to show her that she doesn’t need magic to moan in ecstasy. Her lips curve up, just a tiny bit, like she knows what he is thinking.

Cullen grabs the signed papers from the desk and escapes down the stairs shouting his thank yous. Her voice rings in his ears all the way to the yard.

“Do visit again, Commander.”


	4. Healing Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics by Tori Amos.

_and i rode along side_  
 _till the honey spread_  
 _itself so thin_  
 _for me to break your bread_  
 _for me to take your word_  
 _i had to steal it_

 

Cassandra approaches Evelyn in the garden, while she is tending the herbs. While Skyhold has a perfectly capable gardener, Evelyn likes tending the herbs and plants herself. In a small way it makes her see the fruits of her travels, the seeds and cuttings that she brings back, cultivated and blooming in the heart of her keep.

“I need to ask you for something.”

The Seeker seems uncomfortable, fidgety even and this worries Evelyn. The other woman is always stoic, taking the hard decisions with courage and tact.

“Cassandra, you know that you can ask me anything.”

“Oh, it is not for me… You know that the Commander is no longer taking lyrium. And you know that he has already asked me to relieve him from his duties once.”

She hakes her head, and both her and Evelyn share a look thinking back on that day.

“It is getting worse, I can see it.”

The seeker looks away, trying to find something to distract herself. Evelyn realises how worried she really is.

“I discovered something in one of the Tevinter tomes that Dorian has been hoarding in the library. Templars would never allow magical cures or healing in the South, especially when it came to lyrium, but it seems that low-lever magical healing, especially muscle and bone manipulation may provide some relief from the physical symptoms.”

Evelyn nods slowly, the theory at least is sound, but she is not sure if it would work in practice. Or would work with this Templar in particular.

“Why not ask Solas, he is a more proficient healer than I am?”

The Seeker shakes her head, letting out a frustrated noise.

“The Commander would never let Solas help, and he is not even aware of the situation as it is. You would be more than able for low level spells and I feel that the Commander would be more likely accept your help.”

Evelyn bites her lip, and considers this. She isn’t so sure that he would, but if it could bring some measure of relief to his life then the least she could do was offer.

“All right, I am happy to do this, but it may be better if the suggestion comes from you.”

As if reading her thoughts, Cassandra continues:

“You think that he would not trust a mage?”

Evelyn nods and looks down at her fingers still cradling the blood lotus blossom.

“I think that you worry too much. The Commander sees more in you than just a mage. This is why I am even suggesting this.”

 

\----------------------

 

Cullen watches both Cassandra and Evelyn in disbelief. They had cornered him in his office, after the day had nearly passed and they knew that he would not be able to excuse himself on any Inquisition business elsewhere.

“A magical cure! You suggest this after…”

 _After all that you know of my history._ He didn’t add it in, uncertain of how much Cassandra and Leliana had divulged to the other members of the inquisition.

“Commander, I would not suggest this lightly. The choice is yours and the Inquisitor’s. If you would both like to try, it may give you respite and me better certainty of your welfare.”

Cullen presses his lips together. The temptation of respite from the constant pain and ache is welcome, but the thought of magic anywhere near his person makes his shudder.

“I will leave you to discuss this.”

In an uncharacteristic show of emotion Cassandra places her hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze through the bindings of his armor.

“Cullen, you are not alone in this.”

The door clicks shut behind Cassandra and they are alone. Cullen gets up to study the row of books on the shelves by the door, mostly to cover the awkward silence that has fallen. Evelyn is giving him ample space, which is unlike her. She usually stands close to people, even touches her companions with ease. Cullen assumes that the unusual reservation is for his benefit. She sighs:

“We don’t have to do this. If you are not keen on it… It might do more damage than good.”

Cullen lets out a mirthless laugh and shakes his head.

“Don’t get me wrong Inquisitor, I am keen on anything that would give me respite…”

“But it’s the magic that gives you pause.”

She finishes for him, and Cullen nods. There is no point in denying it. 

He can feel her moving closer to him, his body tuned and tense. Her voice is uncharacteristically hesitant.

“We could start with something simple.”

“Like what?”

“I could massage your hands and see if you feel any different.”

Cullen looks at her wearily but for once he sees no calculation, no assessment in her gaze. He is so used to her looking at the war table with frost in her eyes, that he barely recognises the look. She seems open for the first time, her eyes conveying only desire to help him. Cullen looks away. People touch his hands all the time, it’s not like this would be an intimate act; he lies to himself. They could stay here, in his office. Part of him wants to let her.

“All right.”

Cullen is surprised when the words escape him, and he turns to look at her. Her face is still open, gentle. She motions him towards the desk and Cullen sits down. Evelyn jumps to sit on the desk in front of him, with her legs dangling and swaying with nervous energy.

“You need to take your gloves off.”

She is watching him intently and Cullen feels like he is removing a much more intimate piece of clothing than just his leather gloves.

She reaches for his hand, and Cullen is surprised how rough her skin feels.  As if reading his mind, she says:

“It’s the magic, it callouses the skin where there exit points are. They are different on each mage. I’ve even seen some mages who have them on their feet.”

She smiles, trying to lighten the mood, and Cullen forces himself to chuckle. She is trying to help him.

Evelyn takes his hand onto her lap and turns the palm to face upward. She starts out gently, her thumbs pressing circles in his palm, working the muscles tensed from the day of writing reports. It feels heavenly. Cullen’s mouth is suddenly dry and he closes his eyes just to stop himself from watching her, watching the intense way in which she pays attention to his hand. Cullen can feel her fingers pulling and massaging each finger in turn, paying special attention to the muscle at the base of his thumb.

“I’m going to start now, okay?”

Her voice is hesitant and Cullen can feel her fingers lighten their grip. He just nods mutely. He feels like every nerve in his body is focused on his hand. No one has touched him in such a way for a very long time.

Cullen doesn’t feel the magic at first; his hand just feels warm. Then the tingling starts as Evelyn massages his palm with a steady rhythm. The lyrium hums in him, but Cullen tries to push it back, he wants this to work, wants it work where nothing else has.

Then it happens, slowly and all at once. It is like the rest of his body is frozen with only his hand brought in from the cold. He let’s out a breath, slowly, trying to hold on to the feeling.

“Is this ok?”

“Please don’t stop.”

He is surprised at the desperation in his own voice.

“I won’t”

Evelyn undoes his gauntlet and pushes his sleeve up, her fingers pushing the warmth higher up his forearm. She runs her thumb from his wrist to elbow and back again, massaging feeling and warmth back into the muscles and bone.

“Cullen, you need to take your chest plate  and shirt off, otherwise I can’t get higher up your arm.”

She is crouching by his chair, her left hand still gently rubbing his forearm, but her right hand is resting on his thigh, and the tendrils of hot magic are travelling too close to his groin. Cullen can’t remember her moving from the desk. He get’s up, too fast and pushes her aside with more force than he intended.

“I’m… sorry.”

He turns towards the books again, not wanting to see her. Not wanting her to see the arousal that colors his face and pushes against his trousers.

“It’s very… It’s very intense. Just too much for now.”

Evelyn rises from her crouch slowly watching his hunched back.

“I’ll be here, whenever you are ready.”

Cullen doesn’t turn and after a moment he can hear the door close behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll get to the good stuff next chapter ;)


	5. Sealed with a Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics by Tori Amos.

_seemed right that night and_  
 _i don't know what_  
 _takes hold_  
 _out there in the_  
 _desert cold_

 

 

_I’ll be here, whenever you are ready._

That’s what she had said, but it wasn’t really true. She is the Herald, the Inquisitor and she could not be expected to stay at Skyhold to look after a washed up ex-Templar. On days like these he wishes that he would have had the constitution to let her go as far as she was ready. To let her strip him naked and cover his body with her hands. To drain the pain away, at least for a moment. Cullen swears that when she returns he will let her, and he will give her whatever she wants in return.

The candles are burned to stubs and Cullen feels that he has not made any headway into the mountain of papers on his desk. Cassandra may feel that the lyrium withdrawal is not compromising his ability to lead, but it is compromising his ability to complete his paperwork. He does wonder if getting a taste of the respite and not having had the stomach to go though with it is making things worse. Sometimes he catches himself staring at his hand, willing his mind to remember the heat, the feeling of lack of pain.

 

\------------------

  

He rushes to the war room, where the women are already preparing the map, scoping out the new territories that Evelyn has added to the Inquisition’s sphere of influence. She looks tired and there is a new scar on her ear and neck, and without thinking Cullen reaches out to touch the newly healed skin. Evelyn doesn’t flinch, merely leans gently into his touch but the look on both Josephine and Leliana’s face makes him snatch his hand away. The Spymaster narrows her eyes, like she is filing all the details away for later use.

Cullen feels distracted and curses himself. He is not sure if the pain is worse or if her presence and the lure of respite make him feel it more keenly.

Evelyn briefs them on her travels, but requests that they leave any forward planning to the next day when everyone has a clear head. Leliana gives Cullen a stilted look, but doesn’t say anything as Evelyn bids them good evening.

“I need to speak with you. In private.”

He catches her in the dark hall; she is almost at the door of her quarters, and suddenly Cullen realises how tired she must be and moves to make his goodbyes. Instead she grabs a hold of his arm and leads him to the garden. The hour is fairly late and most of the day folk have already retired for dinner. Only few stragglers sit by the benches. She stops by the seedlings and Cullen stands aside as she inspects the plants. 

“You said… Before you left…”

He shakes his head; it shouldn’t be this hard. Evelyn lifts her eyes from the spindleweed and reaches out for him, her long fingers resting on his gauntlet. It makes him shudder at the memory, but it also gives him courage. 

“You said that when I was ready.”

“I did, and I meant it.”

Without warning she pulls off his leather glove and presses her thumb into the center of his palm. The hit of magic is stronger than he anticipated, but Cullen fights his instinct to pull away and retaliate. The warm shoots up his arm, over his shoulder and down his back, and he nearly moans out loud. Evelyn smiles to him in the near darkness.

“I’ve been practicing.”

Cullen laughs, shocked and unbalanced.

“I can tell.”

She is standing close and Cullen can smell the mountain wind and sweat off her. She hadn’t had time to bathe before the war council.

“Take me to your quarters, Commander.”

  

\-----------------------

 

No one has been to his sleeping quarters, such as they are. Now Cullen regrets disregarding the repairs on the roof. With the flick of her fingers Evelyn lights the few stray candles and their flames create long shadows along the floor. 

“Take off your armour and shirt and lie face down on the bed.”

She is rolling up her sleeves and rubbing her own forearms, to warm them up or ease tension, Cullen is not sure. 

Slowly he removes each piece of his armour and places it by the bed. Cullen feels exposed, he thinks of the scars crossing his body, the ugly reminders of his past, tries to imagine how they will look to her. But when he turns to face her, Evelyn’s face is slack and her eyes are glossy. She looks away and shakes her head like a dog shaking off water.

“Sorry… You are very… Well, you are not built like a mage.”

Cullen could swear that he sees blush colouring her cheeks in the low light. She is rubbing her things with her palms and Cullen can sense the nervous energy radiating off her. It comforts him that she seems as apprehensive as he feels. Cullen lies on the bed. Even a few months ago he would have never turned his back to a mage, and now here he is, asking her to use magic on him. But, strangely, for the first time the thought doesn’t frighten him.

Cullen feels the bed dip and she climbs over him. She settles her weight on his thighs, her knees resting against his hip. There is a pop of stopper being pulled out and a slick sound of her hands rubbing together, and Cullen tries to calm his racing heartbeat.

“Blood lotus oil. It’s used in healing magic and has some decent conductive properties.”

She starts on his lower back, her palms pressing into the skin. The long slide up his back makes Cullen catch his breath; there isn’t even any magic yet. Just touch and human contact, something he has systematically denied himself in the past few years. Evelyn’s hands are steady as they work on the muscles of his back and shoulders.

Her hands come and rest on his lower back again, and Cullen can feel her adjusting her position, wiggling her hips against his ass and he tries to not think about that motion too much. She leans into her hands, bearing considerable weight onto him, and then he can feel the magic slowly starting to build, the warm tendrils of it working up his back and around his sides. Slowly she spreads her hands, working around his waist and ribcage.

Cullen buries his face into the pillow as he thinks that he may be crying. The relief washes his body, wraps around his limbs and the feeling of it is too overwhelming. Evelyn seems to sense this and eases of on the pressure, letting her hands travel up and down his back gently, with only a hint of magic between them.

“Harder, please.”

Cullen is surprised how hoarse his voice sounds. 

Her fingers work the muscles of his back, as if knowing where the worst pain resides. The edges of his shoulder blades, worn and pained from the weight of his shield. The muscles of his neck, cramped and tense from the hours spent crouched over paperwork late into the night. The old, old scars on his sides where the hurt has sunk deep into his bones. She envelops him in warmth and _safety_ , the pain slowly bleeding off him like a sponge being wrung dry. The lyrium hums inside him but the sensation is not unpleasant, almost as if it is answering to Evelyn’s magic, to its sister’s call.

She works the ball of her hand into the long muscles running parallel his spine. The up and down motion makes her weight shift, working his cock into the mattress on every stroke. Cullen is warm, aroused, and for the first time in an age, not in pain. He is floating on too much bliss to even feel ashamed of his desire, it just mingles with all the other pleasant sensations he hasn’t allowed himself. Cullen moans into the pillows after a particular powerful push of her hips.

Evelyn grits her teeth and curses herself. At every upward stroke of her palm she is able to grind her crotch against the Commander’s ass and while the pressure is delicious, her cunt is starting demand more focused attention. She is pretty sure that Cullen is as worked up as she is, if the noises he is making are anything to go by.

The Commander has been in her thoughts more and more recently, but Evelyn is shocked at the visceral reaction in her body. The way the magic seems to wrap around them and pulse inside her. She leans over him, her breasts pressing into his back and Evelyn is sure that he can feel her hardened nipples through the fabric of her shirt. Their bodies are flush and Evelyn can smell his sweat mixing with the oil she is using. She says his name, and it comes out as a sigh at first.

“Cullen, do you want to turn around?" 

He makes a muffled noise and nods. Evelyn lifts herself up, and balances on her knees to give him space to flip over. As soon as Cullen is on his back she sits back down. His face is flushed, eyes hooded, and Evelyn can feel the hot, hard length of him and she fights the urge to grind herself against him. In which she is not totally successful.

Cullen’s eyes follow the lines of her body. Her cheeks are ablaze and her hips are gently grinding against his hardness. Gentle little flicks that she doesn’t seem to be in control over at all.

“Cullen… is this okay?"

He can see the apprehension, the fear in her eyes. This means something to her. Not just a warm body in the night, but _him_. He means something to her. It’s a revelation and benediction rolled into one, and Cullen runs his hands over her thighs, his palms stopping to rest over her hipbones.

“Yes, Evelyn. It’s more than okay.”

She lets out of a sigh, and pushes her hips down against him now with intent, letting herself ride the wave of pleasure.

Evenly unbuttons her shirt, revealing her breasts, and they are exactly as Cullen remembers. Pink nipples and with a fine sheen of freckles scattered over the skin. He reaches out, capturing one nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling and pinching gently. Her fingers are already working on the buttons of her trousers, rolling the fabric down her hips. She hovers over him as she struggles out of her trousers, quickly returning her knees to either side of him.

Instead of letting her sit back down, Cullen brigs his hands to cup her ass; keeping her in place, crouched over him. She closes her eyes as his fingers travel between her legs. Cullen parts her folds and she is so wet, a few gentle strokes over her bundle of nerves causes her to shudder and moan into his ear. He works a finger and then another into her body.

“Andraster’s mercy, Cullen, please just fuck me.”

Cullen smirks and mercilessly teases her for a few moments longer. She is panting and cursing him, while her hips buck hungrily against his hand.

She lets him flip them over, pulling her knees up and opening herself to him as much as possible. Cullen frees his cock from his trousers and sinks into her with a single thrust. He wants this to last, but she is tight and hot, and it has been such a long time.

Evelyn works her hand between their bodies, stroking and pushing. She moans and sighs, shameless in her own pleasure. Cullen tries to hold himself back, only so that he can watch her. Watch her parted lips and tightly closed eyes as her body clenches around his cock. He is taken off guard by her sudden orgasm. Her back arches and her body grips him with a surprising strength. 

Cullen thrusts into her then, hard and fast, chasing the last tremors of her climax. He pushes her legs further apart, driving into her and rushing himself towards release. When it finally comes it feel like years in the making and he shudders and moans with his face buried against her chest. Her hands are tangled in the hair on the back of his neck, thumbs stroking the soft skin behind his ears.

Cullen rolls to his side, pulling her body with him, already fearing the loss of contact, the loss of her. She seems to sense his apprehension and wraps her limbs around him, pressing their sweat soaked bodies together. 

As they lie together, Cullen realises that they have never even kissed. He runs his hand along her cheek and angles her face towards his and finally brings their lips together. It’s surprisingly chaste considering what they have spent the last hour doing. Evelyn smiles, her thumb running along his stubble. 

“Feeling better now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the encouragement and prodding to get me to finish this. :)
> 
> This is the end, for now. I don't have any ideas for future chapters, but you never know...


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